


Daddy

by bactaqueen



Category: AFI
Genre: Daddy Issues, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/pseuds/bactaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daddy raised him. Daddy taught him how to be a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events is entirely coincidental.
> 
> Author's Note: Originally posted August 2005.

Dust motes danced in the yellow light slanting through the orange dimness. It was warm in the small master bedroom, but the man on the bed was content in the old gray sweatpants. The baseball game reflected in the lenses of his glasses and the roar of the crowd at Fenway was dulled by the game announcer. Oakland was up one run in the top of the fifth, no outs; the tallboy on the nightstand gathered condensation in the still air; and he could think of no better way to spend a quiet Sunday afternoon.  
  
The muffled sound of footsteps on the stairs reached the room. On the bed, he straightened a little, hitching his pants higher and crossing his bare ankles. He used the remote to turn down the volume on the television, then turned his expectant gaze to the door.  
  
Dark eyes, set into a face that bore no resemblance to his own, peered around the edge of the door. A soft voice ventured, "Dad?"  
  
A smile broke out on his face, and he muted the television. His eyes swept back and met those of his son. "Dave. When did you come in?"  
  
"Just now." The boy--young man, he reminded himself--pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He glanced around. "Is Mom here?"  
  
"She took Mikey shopping." He eyed Davey. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Worry passed over Davey's face. "Can I talk to you?"  
  
He didn't like the serious note in Davey's voice. A frown tugged at his lips, and he said, "What's wrong? Do you need money?"  
  
Davey chuckled breathlessly. "Nah, I'm good. I just..." His gaze slid away and back again. "I've been thinking, and I need to talk to you." Hope was written all over Davey's face, along with nervousness and shy determination.  
  
Dad picked up the remote and switched off the television. "What is it?"  
  
Davey crept into the room, careful to close the door, and kicked his shoes off at the end of the bed. Just like when he was a kid, Davey climbed up on the bed and crawled toward the head. He stretched out, folding his hands on his stomach. Dad watched as Davey stared up at the ceiling and collected himself.  
  
The young man took a long, deep breath. "I've had a lot of time to think."  
  
Unsure of what to say, thinking nothing was better than something wrong, Dad waited in silence.  
  
"Dad." Davey's breath caught. "I think I'm gay," he whispered. Fear tinged his soft voice, and manifested in his eyes when he turned them to his dad.  
  
Dad blinked and said nothing.  
  
"Say something," Davey begged quietly.  
  
He hesitated before venturing, "So?"  
  
Physically affected, Davey seemed to recoil, managing, "What?" in a strangled voice.  
  
With a frown, Dad tried again. "So?"  
  
Tears formed in Davey's eyes. "Dad, I'm--"  
  
"Gay. I heard you." Dad's eyes bored into his son's. "So what?" His face was expressionless; this was matter-of-fact acceptance.  
  
Relieved understanding relaxed Davey and dried his tears. "You're okay with it." It wasn't a question.  
  
Dad shrugged. "What does it change about you?"  
  
In a heartbeat, Davey was over, his arms around Daddy, his smooth cheek pressed to Daddy's bare chest. He murmured, "Thank you."  
  
Daddy laid a hand on Davey's arm and rested the other on the back of his head. "I don't know why you're thanking me," Daddy said softly. It seemed natural to hold his son when he needed this comfort, no matter that he was nineteen years old.  
  
Eyelashes brushed against Daddy's skin. Davey's lips moved, soft breath playing out. "I owe you a lot, Dad," he said quietly. "You didn't have to be... but you were. You are."  
  
Thoughtful silence stretched between them before Daddy spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "I fell in love with both of you."  
  
Davey smiled. "I saw you first."  
  
Daddy's arm shifted to encircle Davey's shoulders and he laughed a little. "I remember."  
  
Calm quiet filled the air around them as Davey's body relaxed against Daddy's. After a while, he asked, "Am I too old for this?" His lips touched Daddy's skin in a deliberate caress.  
  
When Daddy swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbed. "Maybe."  
  
Tension was a tangible thing between them as they lay still and silent. Then Davey shifted, and his voice held hesitant curiosity. "Did you ever...?" He lost his nerve and trailed off, leaving the question unspoken.  
  
But Daddy knew what Davey was asking--he even understood the question and the motivation behind it. So Daddy closed his eyes and answered simply. "Yes."  
  
Davey played with his lipring before curiosity again overtook him. "When?"  
  
Memories teased the edge of Daddy's consciousness. He felt it unfair that a man had to choose, but he wouldn't have given up this boy and his mother for anything. "Before your mother. Before you."  
  
Davey pulled back. "Why...?"  
  
Daddy opened his eyes and looked down. "Because of your mother. Because of you."  
  
"Did you ever... want it? Again?" Davey asked, picking up on the wistfulness in Daddy's voice.  
  
Shame tried to rise in Daddy, but he refused to allow it. His gaze remained steady. "Only recently."  
  
Davey's hand shifted to the center of Daddy's chest. "I thought I was a freak."  
  
"Dave, no." Daddy slid his arms around Davey and pulled him close. "You're not a freak. Never think that."  
  
The tears came. Davey didn't sob, only cried, face pressed to Daddy's warm skin. Daddy wrapped his arms tightly around the boy and ran his hands up and down his back. Tears were an unusual circumstance between them, but Daddy refused to deny Davey this comfort.  
  
It was a while before Davey's tears stopped. The boy rubbed his face against Daddy's chest and parted his wet mouth to speak. Davey's voice was low and gravelly when he made his admission.   
  
"It was you, Dad."  
  
With his eyes closed, Daddy said quietly and thickly, "I know." His hands moved in slower, smaller circles. He did know. He'd known all along.   
  
Davey pressed closer. Uncertainty made his body tense in Daddy's arms. When he drew away, it filled his voice. "Is it... Do you... Since you're not really my father...?"  
  
Daddy met worried, deep brown eyes with a steady gaze. He saw his wife in his son's face. He saw his son. And he saw a man coming into his own. He gave an answer to this man he never would have given his son. "I don't know."  
  
The sharp lines of Davey's face became harder, and the glint in those dark eyes became dangerous. Davey pushed Daddy to his back and climbed on top of him. Long fingers loosened the knotted drawstring of the sweats. Davey pushed the sweats down.  
  
"I want it," the boy said simply.  
  
Yes, and Daddy wanted it, too. But one of them had to protest, didn't they? "Dave."  
  
Davey raised his head. His eyes flashed. "No. This isn't like a Mohawk or a skateboard, Dad. I want this."  
  
He'd never seen Davey this intense or serious offstage. In that moment, he didn't care about what should be done. His son had been through too much alone. The least he could do was extend his true support. Davey had earned this.  
  
Daddy nodded, permission and acceptance all at once.  
  
Gratified, Davey pushed the pants down and wrapped his hand around Daddy's half-hard cock to lift it. Daddy could only observe as Davey stroked him a few times. Those slender fingers held him and touched him with more than a new lover's curiosity: it was a son's reverence.  
  
Daddy watched the slow descent of Davey's head, wanting to curl his toes and roll his eyes. His cock disappeared into that mouth, and he couldn't look away. The dual assault of sensation--the sight of those lips stretched around him and the feel of that wet mouth--came close to breaking him. Davey had no experience, and that was clear, but he was trying so hard; Daddy understood that this was about pleasure as much as need.  
  
After an eternity, Daddy croaked, "Dave."  
  
Davey raised his head, his lips slick and swollen. "Fuck me."  
  
Daddy swallowed hard and repeated the boy's name.  
  
Davey remained still, stubborn, refusing to accept anything less than what he'd asked for, what he'd earned.  
  
Finally, Daddy sighed. "Come here."  
  
Before he'd finished speaking, Davey was in his arms, half of a hard bear hug with full body contact. First and later kisses were sloppy, wet and rough and deep. Davey wriggled, and it was when Daddy felt the first rub of a bare cock against his own that he realized Davey had stripped.  
  
Daddy broke the kiss and pushed Davey over. He straddled the younger man's body and looked down, nearly salivating at the sight of that young dick at rigid attention. He started to sink down, wanting that taste.  
  
But Davey was shaking his head, stopping him. "No. No. Fuck me, Dad." Davey spit messily into his hand and slicked Daddy's cock. He did it again and again until Daddy stopped him with a hand around Davey's wrist. Davey looked up into Daddy's eyes, then spread his legs.  
  
"Please, Dad," he said quietly.  
  
If there had ever been a time to submit to his son's whims, this was it. Daddy knew there were preparations to be made, but he also knew what an impatient little shit Davey could be. Daddy lowered himself, positioned his cock, and slid home with one solid thrust.  
  
It was slow, rough fucking. Daddy watched Davey, noting proudly that the boy never cried. It didn't take long to find rhythm, for each of his outstrokes to result in the bowing of Davey's slim body. Ankles locked at Daddy's knees, and long fingers rubbed his shoulders and back before they fell again to Davey's body.  
  
Davey's eyes bored into his dad's as he toyed with his nipples and slipped his hand down to wrap around his painfully hard cock. His thin lips parted to let the chants escape.  
  
"Dad... Dad... Fuck me, Daddy..."  
  
He understood what Davey wanted, what he needed. Daddy's hand replaced Davey's on his cock, pulling with sure, hard strokes. Davey surrendered and moved his hands to Daddy's biceps. He bit his lip and cried out once as he shot hot white seed over Daddy, convulsing around the cock inside him. Daddy's orgasm was tamer, signaled by a low groan as he stopped moving and let himself spill inside his son. He was almost sad to reflect that he was no longer capable of the abandon Davey showed. Marriage and age had robbed him, but Davey had let him have back his youth, if only for a few bare moments.  
  
Silence broken by ragged breaths settled between them. Daddy remained inside Davey and between his legs, staring down at his son. He didn't feel disgusted with himself or guilty for what he'd done. All he felt was satisfaction, deep love, and wistful, half-formed regret.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Davey slipped his arms around Daddy and drew him down. He was suddenly just a boy needing his dad's hug. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered.  
  
Daddy held Davey as he pulled out. He chuckled, then drew away to roll to his back. "I probably missed the ninth inning."  
  
Davey made a face, but asked anyway, "Who was winning?" as he worked his pants up his legs.  
  
Touched as always that Davey asked even though he didn't care, Daddy smiled. He hitched his own pants back up. "Oakland."  
  
Stretched out again on the bed, Davey touched the center of Daddy's chest. "I..." His eyes were big, worried. "Should I tell Mom? About me?"  
  
Daddy's expression was serious. There were things he'd never shared with his wife, though he guessed she probably knew more than she let on. He gave Davey the advice he should have heeded years before. "I think she knew a long time ago, Dave. But tell her, anyway."  
  
Davey nodded slowly. "Mikey?"  
  
Smirking, Daddy said, "That kid thinks you're a god. Whatever you tell him, you're only going to be cooler for."  
  
Laughter was Davey's agreement. His eyes shifted away, and his body seemed to tense with hesitation.  
  
Daddy lifted his arm. "We've got some time until your mom gets back. We don't even have to watch the highlights."


End file.
